


Words I'd Never Say

by Sundance201



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pregnancy, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundance201/pseuds/Sundance201
Summary: What if Eurus had forced Sherlock to make Molly tell him she hated him instead of that she loved him? If the circumstances were just a little bit different, how would the aftermath play out?





	1. The Final Problem

**Author's Note:**

> So the premise here is that basically everything about series 4 is the same, except Sherlock and Molly have been in a relationship since Rosie was born. One day I was struck by the idea of Eurus forcing Sherlock to get Molly to say she hated him instead of that she loved him and then my brain just sort of ran away with it. My writing gears are a bit rusty, but it was fun to write these two again. They'd been on my mind a lot lately. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Eurus’s voice crackled over the speaker and her image suddenly filled one of the screens. “Now back to the matter at hand! Coffin. Problem: lives are in danger. It will be, as I understand it, a tragedy. So many days not lived; so many words unsaid, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Yes, yes, yes. And this, I presume, will be their coffin.” Sherlock’s reply was terse.

“Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. Oh and it might interest you to know that there’s something already inside. I’ll apply some context in a moment.”

“A body?” Sherlock was instantly on alert, his hands going to the lid of the coffin.

“No, no, don’t be dull. Not a body. Go on then…deduction time, Sherlock.”

“Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I’d say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman.”

“Not a child?” John asked.

Sherlock shook his head. “A child’s coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although still best available in that bracket.”

John sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That was a lonely night on Google.”

“This is a practical and informed choice. The balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman, distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice. Acquainted with the process of death, but unsentimental about process of disposal.” Suddenly he trailed off, both hands gripping the edge of the coffin. It was like his brain was finally catching up with his mouth and he knew immediately who was intended to be interred in this coffin. “No,” he whispered. 

“What about the plaque? ‘I hate you.’ What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked, not catching on. Mycroft stood back with his arms folded, watching Sherlock carefully. Sherlock was sure that he’d already pieced it all together. 

“Where is she?” Sherlock’s low voice rumbled threateningly. “Where is she?!”

John’s brow furrowed, taking in the coffin and Sherlock’s rage. His face paled. “Molly?”

“Oh Sherlock, don’t worry. She’s perfectly safe for the moment. But her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes, unless I hear the release code from her lips.”

“The release code?” John asked. Sherlock simply nodded down to the plaque. 

The image of Molly’s flat flashed up on the screen and everyone was quiet, watching Molly move around her kitchen. She was wearing her favorite striped jumper and a loose-fitting pair of trousers. She’d just gotten home from work and was going about making herself a cup of tea. She seemed in high spirits, but there was also an air of nervousness about her. Sherlock watched her carefully until he made all the connections. His eyes widened and his gaze flew to the other screen, where Eurus was watching him carefully. “No. I won’t do it.”

“Well the alternative is watching her get blown up, Sherlock, so I suggest that you weigh your options carefully.” Eurus leaned back in her chair casually. 

His voice was strangled and he looked on the verge of tears. “Why?”

She shrugged and her lips curved up in a sickening little grin. “Because I’m curious what it’ll do to you. I’m calling her on your phone, Sherlock. Make her say it – and make sure that she means it.” 

They could all hear the phone dialing and ringing – everyone’s eyes were glued to the screen. They watched as Molly glanced down at the phone and grinned, answering the call almost immediately. 

“Sherlock! Hi! Funny, I was about to call you actually. I have something to tell you and I was hoping that you could come over sometime tonight or tomorrow?”

He cleared his throat slightly, but it didn’t seem to help the tightness. “No, Molly, I’m afraid I really can’t.”

She deflated slightly, but shrugged. “Oh, that’s fine. I understand that you’re busy. When works best for you then? I only need a few minutes. Maybe you could even swing by the lab?”

Sherlock’s eyes closed tightly for a moment, fighting back the tears at what he knew he had to say…what he had to get her to say. “No, you misunderstand me, Molly. I really can’t see you again…ever. I think that’ll make it the easiest on both of us.”

Even from the grainy picture on the screen, everyone could tell that Molly had gone pale. “What? What are you saying, Sherlock?”

He looked briefly over to his sister, begging her silently to not make him do this. She just shook her head and gestured with her hand to just get on with it. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Molly, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s boring. You’re boring. I thought that maybe this would be a fun new experiment, but I think I’ve gathered all the data I’d need to last me for a lifetime.”

“Sherlock…what do you mean? You can’t mean that. What’s going on?”

He bit out a sharp laugh and they all watched as Molly flinched at the sound, tears welling up in her eyes as she clutched the phone to her ear. “I do mean it, Molly. I’m not the man that you want me to be – I never will be. You were diverting for a little bit, but I’m bored with you. It’s a shame that I’ll have to find another morgue to work out of, but it’s a small price to pay to have my freedom back. I’m sure Mycroft will be able to arrange something for me.”

Molly clutched at her stomach and Sherlock surged forward, as if he could reach out to her through the screen. His eyes shut again briefly. “Tick tock, tick tock, Sherlock. The clock’s still going and I haven’t heard the release code yet,” Eurus taunted from the screen. 

His eyes flew open, tears trailing down his cheeks – but his voice was hard and cruel. “I know you were hoping for a ring within a month or two, so really it’s easier to do this now. Wouldn’t want two broken engagements under your belt, would you, Molly?”

“You bastard,” she whispered, her free hand gripping tightly at the counter in front of her. “You utter bastard.”

“You knew that going in, Molly. You had to have known that there was a chance you’d end up hating me. I’m not cut out to be anyone’s boyfriend, especially not Mousy Molly Hooper’s. Go ahead, Molly. Tell me. Tell me how much you hate me.” His tone was defiant, daring her to speak up, but his face crumbled with every cruel word that he directed her way. 

For a moment, Molly’s eyes narrowed and she glanced down, her breathing labored. Sherlock glanced up to the clock and panicked as the numbers got closer and closer to zero. “I should have never indulged you in the first place. This whole fling was a mistake. Complete waste of time.”

“I hate you,” she whispered finally and despite the fact that his heart well and truly fractured at the words, he couldn’t help but fall back in relief as well. “Never speak to me again, Sherlock Holmes.” She ripped the phone away from her ear and angrily punched the end call button with her pointer finger. Her small frame bent over the counter and although they couldn’t see her face, it was obvious from the shaking of her shoulders that she was sobbing. 

The video feed cut off and Sherlock’s head whipped around to the screen where Eurus watched in rapt fascination. “I did it. I got her to say it.” John moved forward, patting Sherlock’s shoulder in a show of support, but Sherlock shrugged him off. “Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane, I need to talk to her.” He paused, his eyes closing tightly, fighting back the tears that he felt threatening. “I won. She said it.”

Eurus scoffed as her image moved onto the screen that was occupied by Molly just a few seconds ago. “You think that was winning? Oh do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn’t win anything, Sherlock. You lost. You lost everything.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes oddly soft. “Emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you every time.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Aren’t you curious what’s in the coffin? Go ahead, open it up.” John and Mycroft watched silently as Sherlock slid the lid off just enough to feel around inside the coffin. One hand pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half, and he held it out to John, who took it without unfolding it, as Sherlock placed the lid back on the coffin. 

He held out his hand for the paper and John dutifully handed it back. He and Mycroft stepped back, unsure of what would happen next. “How did you get these?” Sherlock asked, as if he already knew what he was holding in his hands. 

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Sherlock. Even in her little lab. Don’t worry, this is the only thing I asked him to do.” Eurus leaned back in her seat. “Take your time to move into the next room, Sherlock. I’ll need you at peak efficiency.” The door at the back of the room slid open and Eurus’s feed cut off, leaving the room still and silent as Mycroft and John watched Sherlock carefully. 

He took a deep breath and unfolded the paper, his eyes flitting across the page and confirming what he already knew. He nodded to himself before folding up the paper and tucking it into the inner pocket of his suitcoat. Slowly, stilted, he walked up to the coffin and placed both his hands on it, bowing his head. 

Mycroft had started to make his way toward the door and John had followed, but they both turned back when they realized that Sherlock wasn’t following them. They watched as Sherlock’s breathing got increasingly erratic and tears started leaking from his eyes. “No. No! NO!” he screamed, suddenly pounding his fists against the top of the coffin, destroying the lid and then grabbing the coffin itself and smashing it against the floor. He destroyed it utterly, smashing it until there were only boards and splinters left. He screamed and sobbed until his voice was hoarse. 

John and Mycroft could do little more than watch, taken aback by Sherlock’s utter loss of control. They knew how much Sherlock cared for Molly, of course, and knew that this would hurt him deeply, but they hadn’t expected this. Not after the way he’d held himself together so far. 

Sherlock finally collapsed on his hands and knees, shaking and taking little gasping breaths. He crawled to the closest wall and sat with his back to it, closing his eyes and clenching and unclenching his shaking hands in an attempt to regain control. 

After a few minutes, his breathing was almost back to normal and his eyes opened, his gaze lifeless and glassy. John took a step towards him, and then another, and another, until he was standing in front of his best friend. “I know this is difficult and I know that you’re being tortured, but you’ve got to keep it together.”

“This isn’t torture. This is vivisection. We’re experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats.” He took a deep breath and reached into his suit coat. He held up the piece of paper to John, who took it carefully. 

Mycroft stood watching from the doorway, his arms folded and his face still. “Sherlock, you can’t focus on that now.”

Sherlock had enough energy to send a glare in Mycroft’s direction, before looking up at John. “I know you didn’t make the deductions we did. Go ahead and look at the paper.”

John carefully unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the paper, widened, and then read the information again, making sure he fully understood what he held in his hands. “Molly’s pregnant?”

Sherlock nodded miserably. “With my child. We weren’t actively trying but we weren’t doing much to prevent it from happening.” He looked up at John. “If I escape this maze, I’d be a father. But she’ll never let me see the baby. I’ll never see either of them.”

John shook his head. “We’re soldiers today, Sherlock. You’ve got to remember that. You’ve got to stay focused.”

Sherlock’s eyes closed once more, before he took a deep breath and opened them again. “Soldiers,” he said firmly, nodding. John offered him a hand up, which he accepted and got to his feet, before brushing himself off and moving into the other room, trying to prepare himself for whatever horror Eurus had set before them.


	2. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though he thinks she won't let him in, Sherlock goes to Molly. He's pleasantly surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the happy ending you all had to have guessed was coming. Couldn't have left our favorite couple like that. :) 
> 
> There's a third chapter that I'm toying with, but it's basically just them talking about plans for the future and the baby. Let me know if you're interested. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Greg had dropped John at the safehouse, where Mrs. Hudson and Rosie were already situated. He’d offered to take Sherlock to Molly’s but Sherlock had insisted on walking. He needed space to figure out how he’d try to fix this and walking always helped with the brainwork. 

Of course, he didn’t count on the exhaustion hitting him about three blocks from Molly’s flat. He dragged himself to her door, feeling as if his feet were made of lead and his skull was stuffed with cotton. He didn’t think she’d let him in, but he had to at least try. He knocked, as quietly as he could, aware that it was 6 in the morning. 

He sat on her stoop, for just a moment, leaning his forehead against the side of her doorframe. 

“Sherlock?” Surely he was hallucinating his Molly’s sweet voice. She wouldn’t have opened the door to him, not after what he’d said to her, and she certainly wouldn’t sound like her sweet, wonderful, loving self. “Oh my god, Sherlock, get in here. What happened to you, darling?” 

He tried getting up, but his legs felt like jello, so he pathetically crawled into her flat on hands and knees. Molly shut the door and locked it once he was inside, and then she was on her knees beside him. He practically fell into her lap, burying his face against her cotton clad stomach. She was in her pajamas, but Sherlock could tell that she hadn’t been able to sleep. “Why aren’t you yelling at me right now?” he mumbled against her. 

Her fingers sunk into his hair and Sherlock groaned in pleasure. He’d convinced himself that he’d never feel her touch again and to have it instantaneously was almost more than he could handle. “You’re hardly fit for a row right now, Sherlock,” she murmured, her voice almost teasing.

“You said you hated me.” He pulled away from her stomach and looked up at her, reaching out to drag his fingers along her cheek. Molly caught his hand and held it against her cheek, turning her head to kiss his palm. 

“That’s what you wanted me to say, wasn’t it? Why you were saying all those terrible things?”

He nodded miserably, tears escaping from his eyes even though he had desperately tried to hold them back. “Oh darling,” Molly whispered, leaning over and kissing his forehead. “Can we go sit somewhere? Or can I run you a bath? We don’t have to talk yet. I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

Sherlock’s eyes went wide with realization as he awkwardly rolled off of her lap and then went to his knees and then, shakily, pulled himself up to standing. He held out his hands to Molly to help her stand as well. One of his hands went immediately to her stomach, silently questioning. Molly’s eyes widened with surprise briefly, but then she smiled softly at him and placed her hand over his. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning up on tip toes to give him a gentle kiss. “We’re fine.” She intertwined their fingers and then tugged on his hand, leading him towards her bedroom and her en-suite. 

He leaned against the counter as he watched her start the bath. She stood and turned to him and he immediately opened his arms, offering himself to her. Smiling, Molly moved towards him and sighed happily, snuggled against his chest. She gently kissed the base of his neck and then slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. It was different than it usually was – her intent wasn’t to seduce, it was simply to take care of him. 

Molly Hooper baffled him. 

She got him naked quite efficiently and helped him into the tub. Grabbing a flannel from her towel rack, she dipped it into the water and then squeezed out some of her bodywash onto it, lathering it up before gently cleaning him. “Molly,” he whispered, “what are you doing? I should be taking care of you.”

She shook her head and smiled. “Greg told me a little bit…he phoned after you got out of the car. It sounded like you’d been through the ringer. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

“But after what I did to you…the things I said…” He leaned forward and kissed her hand that had been sitting on the edge of the tub. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Her fingers found their way to his hair again and he sighed. “I didn’t think that you did.”

His head cocked to the side curiously and his eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

Molly shrugged. “It was something in your voice. I’ll admit that I thought you were serious for a second and it felt like all the air had gone out of the room. But then I listened to you…really listened to you. And you sounded – there was something in your voice that reminded me of that night that you came to me for help with faking your death. There was the same type of desperation. The same type of sadness.” She leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead. “I knew that something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but something just didn’t feel right. And then when you practically demanded that I tell you that I hated you…I figured that you needed to hear it for some reason. So I said it.” 

Sherlock shook his head in awe. “Molly Hooper, you are amazing. Astounding. John was in the same room and he could barely put it all together.” Molly giggled and lightly smacked his arm. “You’re right though…my sister, Eurus, she told me that she had your flat rigged to explode, unless I could get you to say it.”

Molly gasped and looked around instinctively, as if searching for a bomb. Sherlock tugged on her hand and her focused landed back on him. “It’s not. You’re fine; you’re safe. It was just a lie she told me to distract me. I couldn’t think clearly because I was worried for your life, couldn’t think of some clever way to get you to say it without breaking your heart.” He paused. “I could see you. She didn’t have bombs, but she had cameras. I saw you after you hung up.” His thumb stroked the outside of her thigh gently, needing to touch her to prove to himself that she was really in front of him. “That’s why I was so surprised when you let me in, no questions asked. And called me darling.” 

“Even though I thought that something more was going on, hearing you say those things…that was still like my worst nightmare coming to life, Sherlock,” Molly whispered. 

“I’m so sorry, Molly. I’m so sorry that I put you through that,” Sherlock whispered miserably. He grabbed both of her hands and pressed kisses to both of them, before drawing them towards his chest. “I’ll spend every second of my remaining days trying to make it up to you.”

Molly grinned and leaned forward, gently kissing him. “The exhaustion is making you hyperbolic,” she teased and he smiled, tugging her forward for another kiss. Molly grabbed the flannel again, that she’d laid to the side earlier, and kept on with her gentle cleansing. “We need to clean you up a little bit and then it’s to bed with you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I want to tell you everything, Molly. About Eurus…about Victor…I just don’t know how.” 

Molly paused in her ministrations and she bit her lip, looking intently at him. “I’m here, Sherlock. I’m not going anywhere. It can take you years to find the words and I’ll still be here to listen.” Sherlock simply nodded and then closed his eyes, leaning back against the tub. 

He must have dozed off briefly, because suddenly Molly was shaking his shoulder and the tub was draining. “Up,” she whispered, holding a hand out for him and simultaneously stretching her other arm to reach for a towel. “Can’t let you fall asleep in the tub.” 

He nodded and drowsily let her dry him off, before stepping out of the tub and stumbling towards her bed. She literally tucked him in and then went to go shut her blackout curtains, making sure that the sunlight didn’t peak through at all, before moving back to the bed and slipping underneath the covers. 

Immediately, Sherlock pulled her to his chest. “I love you, Molly,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, Sherlock.” 

He curled around her, shifting down her body until his head was pillowed by her breasts. And all the while, he kept whispering, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”


End file.
